


The Prince's Bride

by dvs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Book Fusion, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin as the Prince's bride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Bride

Once upon a time, long ago, there was a chap called Merlin and he was a servant to the young prince, one Arthur Pendragon. Arthur was kind of a git. He was always ordering Merlin around. Sure, servants mostly get ordered about, but Arthur was exceptionally gittish about it. It's like he really enjoyed pissing Merlin off.

"Shine my horse! Dust my buttons! Weave me a rainbow!" he often demanded. Or something similar.

Merlin would just sigh and say, "As you wish." And then mutter, "What the hell are buttons?"

This went on for many years, with Arthur just getting more and more intolerable, until one day a knight rode into town and made eyes at Merlin.

"I am Lancelot. One day there shall be stories of my beauty and bravery, while Arthur will be rather laughable," he said, with the kind of smile a spy on her majesty's secret service in the distant future might have. "Furthermore, I like you. Especially the fact that there's very little chance you might get pregnant."

Merlin beamed in his Merliny way, all starry-eyed and quite taken. He spent the next few days hurrying through his chores, to spend all his time with Lancelot. Sadly, a few nights later Lancelot disappeared. Merlin found out when he had snuck out to meet him and instead found Arthur, glaring, pouting and huffing.

"If you're looking for that collection of underpants diseases called Lancelot, I'll have to disappoint you and tell you I told him to get knotted," Arthur said, huffy and pink cheeked.

Merlin fidgeted a little. "Really? Why would you do this?"

"Because," Arthur said. "Just. Now... go and shine something."

That's when Merlin got really annoyed. All these years he'd suspected that maybe Arthur felt something for him, under all those layers of git. But apparently, there really was no more than git. You removed one layer of git and only found more git underneath.

"No," Merlin said. "Find another dogsbody. I'm done."

Arthur obviously tried to exert his princely powers and forbade Merlin to leave. When Merlin seemed resolute, Arthur barricaded the door by flattening himself against it.

"I love you," he said suddenly (in those days you had to be sudden because of short life expectancy). "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

Merlin frowned. "Why?"

"Well, that sort of thing can go to a manservant's head."

"You really are a prat."

"Look. you ought to be flattered I feel this deeply," Arthur said with a shrug.

"And you ought to... get a new brain!" Merlin spat before shoving Arthur out of the way and running off in the manner of a young angsty male and not like a girl, despite what some stories might say.

The next morning, Merlin regretted such harsh words. Maybe he was being hard on Arthur, after all Arthur had grown up in an environment that did much to cultivate his stupid behaviour. Prat begat prat after all. He was on his way to apologise when his door opened and Arthur stood there looking rather dashing.

"Arthur," Merlin said, trying to ignore all the dashing... stuff.

"I've been thinking," Arthur said.

"That's not like you."

"No, it's not. I left here last night wishing I could have the brain you desire, but I don't. Therefore, I have decided to run away and become the man you will never call a prat. All I need to know is you'll be here when I return."

"Why can't I come with you?"

"I don't respond well to ongoing criticism."

Merlin thought about it. Arthur was right. He really had issues in the constructive criticism areas. Merlin smiled and said, "As you wish."

Arthur looked a little overcome and cleared his throat. "Well, best be off then. Saddle my horse, will you?" Merlin nodded and stepped forward, but suddenly Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's chest and stopped him. "Wait. Today I shall saddle my own horse."

An hour later (though those days you probably wouldn't be able to tell it was an hour because no one had invented the candle what has those markings to measure the day) Arthur sighed wearily and pointed at his horse who was wearing a strange saddle shaped hat.

"Please saddle my horse, will you?" he said.

Merlin gladly did so and bade his prince goodbye, sniffling a little perhaps. No one in Camelot was as pretty as the prince, it would be hard living without his constant presence.

The next day news spread all over Camelot like an accidentally spilled slop bucket (similes were very weak in those days). King Uther spent the morning raging and throwing things at passing servants (a delightful quality Arthur had picked up from his father) and then he went and sulked in front of the queen.

Igraine soothed Uther's brow and told him that sometimes young men did foolish things, like the time Uther decided to declare his love to Igraine by painting a huge mural on the castle walls, which was meant to be floral, but ended up looking kind of rude and then eventually meant the castle had to be painted pink.

"What'll we do, Iggy?" Uther said, refusing to get out of bed, face pressed into the pillow.

"Oh, dahlink," Iggy said, because that's how she spoke, "Ve vill sink of somesink. Don't be sush a fokking depressing little piglet."

"Oh new Christian god, why have you forsaken me?" Uther asked.

"Oh, not vis de Christian god again."

"And stop using words I don't understand, Iggy," Uther said, turning and pouting at her. "The serfs'll take them up in no time and then it'll be fokking this and fokking that."

"Fine fine. Now, back to de matter of our little Arsur running avay. Ve vill simply have to make de lesser known Addy prince in his place."

"Oh God no," Uther said. "Iggy, there is a reason we keep Adrian lesser known."

"So, he is a little strange," Iggy shrugged. "It's vy cousins shouldn't marry."

Uther hid under the blankets for the rest of that day.

Weeks later, Merlin noticed some excitement in town. It appeared everyone had been cordoned off behind red sashes and given miniature flags with the Pendragon crest on them, which they were waving as a rather large group of fancy pants walked down the path between the divided masses (though they didn't really have masses in those days, it was more like a youth club gathering). Merlin neared to get a good look.

Everyone appeared to be waiting to speak to a rather dashing young fellow. He was moving along slowly, shaking people's hands and talking to them with a big smile and laughing at their jokes. He looked vaguely familiar too. Kind of like Arthur, only he had a pencil thin moustache and much more floppy hair.

"Yes, and what do you do?" Merlin heard him asking a young boy.

"Nuffink," the boy the replied.

"Nuffink, you say," the man said with a smile. "Well, I think you'll agree that is the best of all the vocational choices."

"Eh?"

"Yes," the man grinned. "Well, hello, and what do you do?"

"I am in bondage to your father to plough his fields until I die, Sire," the man replied cheerily.

"Really? Bondage, you say. How excellent. You know, I'm always pleased to hear about the success of royal schemes. Especially now with the prices of ploughs what they are. I dare say, if we don't find someone to exploit in the next few hundred years we'll be seeing some pretty damn hard times."

"I absolutely agree with you, Sire," the man laughed.

"And... why hello, what's your name?"

Merlin looked around and realised he was being addressed. "Oh, me? Merlin."

"Merlin," the man said in a smooth voice, smooth like something that might be very smooth and sweet and tasty, were such a thing to exist.

Later that day, Merlin found himself in this stranger's chambers. His name was Adrian and apparently he'd just returned from a tour of the kingdoms. He was really nice. Always looking as though he was listening, always attentive and not demanding in any way. Fat chance he'd ever become king.

"Arthur never said he had a brother," Merlin said, eating some delicacies Adrian had placed before him.

"Yes. He is a buffoon. Therefore a perfect representative of the Pendragons," Adrian said, before picking up a silver pot and asking, "Tea?"

"What's that?"

"A very refreshing drink I found on my travels. I decided to call it tea," Adrian said.

Merlin nodded and drank the offered beverage. "I don't think it'll catch on."

Adrian nodded sadly. "Yes. The Angles are a rather complex people when it comes to beverages."

"Angles," Merlin snorted, eating another delicacy, "Sounds pointy. You're really nice. You remind me of Arthur."

"Really? He's a git, isn't he?" Adrian asked, looking confused.

"Yes. But, underneath he must be like you."

Adrian nodded. "He really isn't. It's why father wants him to be king one day. Gits makes good kings. That actually used to be on the Pendragon crest."

Merlin smiled and shrugged and continued thinking of happy thoughts.

Months later Merlin sat by the fire in Adrian's chambers, feeling rather sad. "I don't think he's ever coming back."

Adrian sighed. "I hate it when you do this."

"I love him," Merlin said. "I can't help it."

"Come on, get up. I'll take you out. Cheer you up. I hear there's a nice new tavern just opened. They have music apparently. Though, really, I prefer places where you can sit and talk without interruption, you know?"

Merlin nodded. He didn't really know what the prince was talking about. He was saved from being asked if he knew by an ominous knock at the door. You could tell it's ominousness by the dullness of the knock, more of a thud than a knock, like a bit of limp arm action.

Adrian knew ominous knocks when he heard them. He picked up a crossbow and said, "Come in."

The messenger walked in and gulped. He gave a nervous smile and said, "I bring happy news."

Adrian smiled and put the crossbow down. "Ah, how delightful. Well, do bring it on over here, my good man." The messenger handed the note and then ran from the room. Adrian stared, unamused. "I'll just have to get him later, I expect." He opened the note and read. Something was wrong. Well, obviously.

"What is it?" Merlin asked.

Adrian shook his head. "It's Arthur, old boy. Looks like he snuffed it."

Merlin frowned. He had no idea what Adrian had just told him. "Can I read it?" Adrian gave him a kind look and handed him the letter. Merlin read it slowly. "Arthur! He's dead!"

"Yes. It is rather depressing."

Merlin's lip wobbled. "You don't look very depressed."

"I'm cultivating a stiff upper lip, old chap," Adrian said, looking a little constipated. "I'm crying on the inside."

Merlin nodded. "Mind if I cry on the outside?"

"Oh, poppet." Adrian sighed, holding out his arms. "I only mind if I can't hold you."

Many months passed. Arthur was never to return and Adrian had fixed himself in Merlin's life. One day he even asked the question Merlin always dreamed Arthur might ask him.

"Merlin, how would you like to move into the castle with me?” Then Adrian asked the question he never thought Arthur would ask. “And perhaps, marry me?"

"Huh?" Merlin asked.

Adrian nodded. "I have grown rather fond of you."

"But, I don't love you," Merlin said sadly, skipping over the word 'marry' entirely for now. "I don't think I can ever love anyone but Arthur."

Adrian's face seemed to stiffen. More so than usual. "Well, I'm not asking you love me back. We can still be friends, can't we?"

Merlin nodded. “I suppose.”

Adrian smiled and they embraced. Merlin lay in Adrian's arms later, pretending it was actually Arthur. If he closed his eyes in a certain way, he almost didn't see the moustache.

“Did you ask me to marry you?” Merlin asked. “You know, that wouldn't really work.”

“Well, we'd have to engage in subterfuge, of course,” Adrian said. “Can't have everyone knowing you're a chap.”

This was how on the eve of their wedding, Merlin found himself staring into a mirror, wearing a wedding dress. Someone had wigged him with long dark curls, rouged him to give him pink cheeks and red lips and wrapped him up tightly to give him a waist and appled him to give him a modest bust.

“Ah, my Lady Morgana,” Adrian said, walking in and smiling at Merlin.

Merlin turned around and shook his head. “This isn't going to work.”

“Merlin, you've been Morgana for months now. It _is_ working.”

“What if this Morgana comes back?” Merlin asked. “I can't believe you told everyone she had an accident and now looks like this.”

Adrian shrugged. “Well, it's working. And everyone knows of our love. We will marry and my father will make me king as he promised. And you will be queen.”

Merlin nodded. “Right. And what about an heir?”

Adrian frowned. “I'm sorry?”

“An heir, Adrian? What about when I can't produce an heir?”

Adrian seemed to realise then how his plan might fail. Then he smiled slowly and said, “Don't you worry, poppet. I'll think of something.”

Merlin didn't see him again that night. Instead he sat in his chambers, wearing that stupid dress and wig, missing Arthur more than ever. That was when suddenly his door burst open and two masked men came for him. Before he could surprise them with a very surprising thing, someone had covered his nose and mouth with something foul smelling and the world went dark.

When he next awoke he was lying over a horse's back like a sack of potatoes, hands tied at the wrists. Most uncomfortably, the apples in his dress were digging into his chest and really hurting. He tried to wriggle to get them to fall out of his dress, only successful in dislodging one. He sighed and stopped, deciding to hear the conversation of his abductors instead.

“That is one strange looking woman,” one voice said.

“Beauty is more than how someone looks on the outside, you disgusting excuse for a human being,” a woman answered.

“You can say that because by the gods, you are hotter than hellfire,” the man said. “We'd have handsome children, my dear. If only you'd say yes.”

“I'd rather marry a pig. An actual pig. One with a snout.”

“Well, oink oink, my dear,” the man answered. The woman might have made a retching noise at the rather familiar sounding man. “And by the by, young bride, I know you're awake. You may as well join the conversation.”

“She's right,” Merlin said. “You're disgusting.”

“Anything to keep those damn pious preachers away,” the man said with a yawn.

“Lancelot,” the woman said as Merlin gasped. He shuddered. He'd actually let his man into his bed. He was going to be sick now. “Someone's on our trail.”

The horses stopped moving and Merlin held his breath to keep the nausea down as he remembered the rather heated nights he'd spent with Lancelot. It was as if the man had a book on every possible position one could... oh, there it was again, bile, rising, hmmmpppp,

“Looks like he's following us,” Lancelot said. “A masked stranger dressed in black. How exciting. But he's following us, which is not such a good sign. We'll just have to kill him I suppose. Here's an idea. I take the bride with me and wait at the top of the Cliffs of Idiocy, you take care of our masked friend.”

“What?” Merlin spat. “You're going to leave a woman to fend off some weird masked murderer type?”

Gwen snorted. Merlin might have heard her eyes roll too. Lancelot very bravely said, “She may be a woman, but I'm prettier than the prettiest girl. Come on, dear lady, we have a meeting with Idiocy.”

“Nothing new,” Gwen muttered.

Lancelot than pulled Merlin from the horse in order to carry him over his shoulder. Merlin decided if he ever got out of this alive, he was going to gain a manful amount of weight.

“You know, young filly, you remind me of a boy I knew,” Lancelot said. “And when I say knew, I do mean _knew_. You know, as in we did it. Sex that is. We did sex.”

“I'm going to be sick,” Merlin said.

“Well that's only because it's dark and you can't see how dashing I am,” Lancelot said.

“Bit thick too,” Merlin muttered, wondering how Lancelot was basically being fooled by a dress, bad wig, makeup and at his point one small apple.

When they reached the foot of the cliffs, Lancelot let Merlin down and told him to put his arms around the other man's neck.

“Are you mad? You can't carry me up there!” Merlin said.

Lancelot snorted. “Don't you worry, dear lady. It's not the first time I've had a woman riding my back.”

“Really, going to vomit,” Merlin said, heaving.

“Well, think of something nice, because I'm not stopping now to be turned into a pin cushion by the masked man about to kill Gwen.”

Lancelot started climbing, Merlin hanging against his back. Somehow this was so much worse than being naked with Lancelot. “How can you leave her to die? She's your friend?”

“Don't be ridiculous. We were paid to abduct you. If we happened to find a nice stable and spent a rainy night doing all manner of lewd things, it doesn't mean we're friends.”

“It's like you want me to be sick,” Merlin said, his voice cracking.

They reached the top of the cliffs eventually, which was not soon enough for Merlin, because the time they got there he was ready to lose not just the contents of his stomach, but anything in the neighbouring regions too. Near the top, Lancelot just had to go into great detail about his exploits with Arthur's pretty servant. Merlin was sick until he was too tired to be sick.

In the meantime Lancelot watched from the cliff edge, like the idiot that he was. “Look at them, will you? Still fighting. At this rate I won't have to kill you, you'll just die of boredom.”

Merlin stuck his head over the cliff from where lay, exhausted. He could see Gwen and the masked man fighting. Only it was less of a fight and more of a delicious dance of sword play. It seemed neither could possibly lose. Every now and then they'd stop fighting and stand still to talk, peering at each other through their masks.

“I wonder what they're saying,” Merlin said.

“Ugh,” Lancelot groaned. “It's always the same with Gwen. Too easily impressed by her opponents. My friend, you fight well, I am most impressed.” Merlin stared at Lancelot as he did his ridiculous girl voice, before he said, “As I am with you, lady. You fight with courage of a knight.”

Merlin turned back to look at the two, Lancelot annoyingly narrating the conversation.

“Your swordplay is divine, my friend. It is a pity I will have to kill you. When I'd rather sit on your face.”

“And it is a pity I will have to die, my lady. Oh, look at me, I'm so gorgeous in all this black here.”

“Please. Please stop. If you want, I'll just jump off the cliff and make it easier for you,” Merlin said.

Lancelot stopped, thankfully. Then he frowned at Merlin. “Have we ever met? You seem awfully familiar.”

When Merlin thought it was quite impossible, he threw up again.

Later, Merlin would find out the words exchanged between Gwen and the masked man. How they commended each other on their swordplay, called each other artists. How Gwen's mastery of the sword impressed the hard and stony-faced masked stranger into smiling. It was why the masked man couldn't kill her when he beat her, opting for knocking Gwen out with a thick tree branch instead.

“Oh, bugger,” Lancelot said. “He's coming up here. Maybe I can throw you at him and kill two birds with one stone.” Then Lancelot smiled and drew his sword. “But that's no fun.”

Merlin was dumped by a boulder, hands still tied. He watched Lancelot limbering up as he waited for the masked man to appear. After a while, Lancelot looked over the side of the cliff and yawned. Only while he was yawning, a dark figure seemed emerge further up on the cliff, slipping out of a hedge. Merlin frowned and watched him as he stood, bent over and trying to get his breath back. He straightened and took a deep breath. Merlin watched him take on a rather heroic stance, extending his sword to invite Lancelot to fight. Then he sagged and walked over, pushing the other man off the cliff.

Merlin stared. “What kind of man does that? You didn't even give him a chance!”

The man faced Merlin, the set of his mouth grim. “I'd be quiet, my _lady_, if you don't want to join him.”

Wow. This guy was pretty mean. It seemed unlikely he'd ever develop a fan following.

“I'm just saying,” Merlin started tentatively. The masked man glared. Merlin shut up.

The man came over and pulled Merlin to his feet. Merlin found himself start to blither against his will. “I know it's unbelievable, but I'm engaged to be married to a very powerful man. People will come for me, you know. Then you'll be in some serious trouble. You'll never get away with this.”

The mean git of a man dragged Merlin to the other edge of the cliff and pointed out to sea. “That's my boat,” he said. “How about I push you into the sea and swim out to my boat? Would you say that counts as getting away?”

“I suppose it might,” Merlin said grimly.

“Yes,” the man smiled. “I suppose it might.”

“Just one question,” Merlin said. “Why are you such a prat?”

“Well, not everyone's like that brilliant prince of yours. I hear he just farts good manners out of all orifices, which coincidentally all look the same.”

“That would be funny if you weren't so intent on killing me,” Merlin said.

“Of course it's funny. You're not loyal to anyone,” the man said. “If he dies, I suppose you'd love another prince in his place.”

Merlin stared, his eyes stinging. “You don't know anything about me. You don't know who I love.”

“Do you know?” the man asked icily.

“Why would you be so cruel to someone you don't even know?” Merlin asked.

“Better than being cruel to someone you do know,” the masked man said. “So, tell me, my lady, of this great love of yours.”

“He's gone. Dead. I'm only marrying Adrian because he reminds me of...” Merlin stopped, not only feeling foolish, but feeling miserable now.

“Reminds you of what?” the masked man asked. “Finish what you were going to say.”

Merlin moved away from Arthur and went to stand at the other cliff edge. Gwen seemed to have disappeared, whereas Lancelot was lying in an armoured heap. Also, in the distance were horses. Horses with men. Knights. From Camelot. Of course Adrian would come for him. He was Arthur's loving brother after all.

The masked man suddenly appeared in front of Merlin. “Reminds you of _what_?”

“Arthur!” Merlin snapped. “He reminds me of Arthur! Arthur who is dead and gone!”

And Merlin shoved the masked man hard, watching him comically wave his arms about before falling back from the edge of the cliff. Merlin gasped. He had not meant to do this. On the other hand, the murderous man who intended to kill him was probably dead, or gravely injured at the very least.

Someone groaned. Merlin looked over the edge and saw Arthur lying on Lancelot. “I didn't mean that! Sorry!” Merlin shouted.

“Merlin. You really are a buffoon,” the man groaned.

Merlin stared. The stranger knew him. Both as Merlin _and_ as a buffoon. “Arthur?”

“Of course it's me, you idiot,” Arthur shouted up.

“Are you okay? God, I'm so sorry!”

“I'm fine. Lancelot broke my fall,” he shouted.

“Oh, you bastards,” Lancelot said.

Merlin looked down at the ropes binding his wrists. He couldn't open them in his surprising way because then there would be no surprises for later on, so he made his way down the cliff carefully and unbelievably. Finally when he got there, he stepped over Lancelot to reach Arthur.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was you,” Merlin said, trying to touch Arthur's face with his bound hands.

Arthur nodded. “It's fine. I mean, this is you we're talking about.”

Merlin scowled and pulled away. “What were you shouting at me when I was climbing down?”

Arthur smiled. “Doesn't matter now.”

“No. Tell me, Really.”

“I was saying, Merlin, you idiot, don't come down here because we need to be at the top, not the bottom,” Arthur said, still smiling.

“It's good that time away really helped you to grow as a person,” Merlin said flatly.

Arthur sighed. “Forgive me, it's just that for a moment I thought I'd broken my back. I see I overreacted.” Merlin stared. Arthur seemed to be sincere. How he had changed.

Merlin smiled and pressed a kiss to Arthur's mouth. “I thought you were dead.”

“It was temporary,” Arthur said, his hand stroking up Merlin's side. “Look. I'm certain we're in danger, so we need to be on top of the cliff. We can't be here when your rescue arrives.”

Merlin frowned. “I don't understand.”

“I know, but I'll tell you. Later. In a big wrap up sort of thing,” Arthur said. “Let's go.”

They stood up, Arthur creaking a little as he did so. He assessed the cliff face and sighed. “Right, put your arms around me.”

“You're going to carry me?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded. “Your ropes are too well bound. As if by some pervert who knows all manner of rope bindings.” Lancelot groaned. “Besides. If that mule can carry you up there, I certainly can.”

Merlin thought about telling Arthur something surprising, but decided he didn't want to ruin the moment. He started to put his arms around Arthur's neck, but Arthur turned.

“Wait,” he said. Then he gently removed the stupid wig from Merlin's head and threw it aside, before kissing Merlin and telling him, “Much better.”

As they went up the cliff, Merlin had to give it to Arthur, he was much stronger than he looked, carrying them both up there. It was rather dashing, in a way that made Merlin feel all warm and tingly.

“Um, Merlin, what's that poking me in the back?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing,” Merlin squeaked and desperately thought of all the things he'd done with Lancelot. Of course then he thought he was going to be sick again.

They reached the top after an eternity of Merlin slipping between lust and nausea. Arthur stood rather heroically at the edge of the cliff as he looked at the knights in the distance, holding Merlin around his waist, who's hands were still bound, held close to his chest. Arthur lifted off his mask then and threw it aside. It made Merlin beam with something sunny and happy in his chest, something Arthur happened to be looking at. Arthur frowned and reached into Merlin's dress, pulling out the one single apple. He eyed Merlin, who quickly looked away.

“Come on,” Arthur said, there's a path over there that will take us down to the other side. “Of course, the path kind of runs into a bit of a cavern inside these cliffs, so don't be alarmed or anything.”

Merlin walked along with Arthur. “Alarmed? Why would I be alarmed?”

“Well, I've been through there before. There might be some exciting things in there.”

“Exciting?”

“Yes, terrifying,” Arthur said, pulling out his sword and looking a little worried. “Don't worry. I'll look after you, Merlin. I didn't climb that cliff with an exhausted, yet sexually aroused man, just to let him die.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin into the cavern. As they made their way through, Arthur said, “You must never wear a dress again.”

“I wasn't planning too,” Merlin said.

“Good,” Arthur said. “I don't like feeling confused about people. It's why I behave like a prat. I found out on my journey, you see.” Merlin was impressed. “See, I can't help being a product of my time and environment. To grow and be sensitive, I had to go and see places where they have outdoor cafés, skin products for men and cheek kissing.”

“I wish I'd been with you,” Merlin said.

Arthur nodded. “Not to worry. We have the rest of our lives. A whole twenty or so years, I imagine.”

“Arthur! Look out!” Merlin yelled as a big demony demon stepped out of the shadows and roared at Arthur.

Arthur being Arthur and amazing was instantly on guard, one arm shielding Merlin from harm, the other holding out the sword.

“Stay behind me, Merlin,” Arthur said.

But the demon was about seven feet tall and had skin like the bark of a tree, his eyes yellow and long talons on his claw-like hands, which he was threatening Arthur with as he yelled, “Raaarrr!”

Merlin couldn't help it. As much as he liked Arthur protecting him and not thinking him a freak, he had to do this, you know, the big surprise thing? He looked at his bound hands, snapping the binding with a single thought. Then in a very supernatural slow motion kind of way, he pushed down Arthur's arm and moved in front of him, holding out his hand and blasting the demon back against the wall, where he fell with a yelp.

Merlin didn't look, but he sensed Arthur going still at his side before yelling, “What the fokking helle was that?”

Merlin turned and looked at Arthur. “I wanted to tell you.”

The demon suddenly stood again and went to 'raaarrr' at them, but Arthur turned and told him, “Look, can I have a moment here? Something's just popped up.” The demon blinked before shrugging and nodding. He sat down on a nearby rock, crossing his legs and arms as he waited. Arthur turned back to Merlin. “You know magic.”

Merlin nodded. “Yes. I'm sorry.”

“I just carried you up a cliff.”

Merlin fidgeted. “You looked like you really wanted to. I didn't want to hurt your feelings.”

Arthur sighed. “Merlin, if there's one thing I learned on my journey of self-discovery it's the fact that you can't have a relationship where you're hiding things. Now, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Merlin thought very hard. “I quite enjoy this dress.”

Arthur seemed to think it over. “It's not going to be a regular thing, is it?”

Merlin shook his head. “I don't think so. It's just very free to move about in.”

Arthur didn't seem to believe his reason and turned to the demon. “Right. Thank you for that. Let's proceed with trying to kill each other. Just one thing, my soon to be lover knows magic and will most surely destroy you. If not through skill, then most certainly through error. Are you willing to take your chances?”

The demon seemed to have a long think before he sighed and pointed them to the exit.

Outside, Arthur muttered and mumbled all the way to the rocky shore, bemoaning the fact that so much physical exertion could have been avoided if Merlin hadn't been so silly.

“You still haven't told me what happened to you,” Merlin said as they they made their way to a rowing boat. “We all thought you were dead.”

“Well, I was almost dead. I was making my voyage home when the boat I was on sunk and I was rescued by that boat out there. I thought it might be Norseman first, what with all the foreign swearing. Turns out it was someone I knew. Someone who told me a terrible thing. I returned home to shed light on some lies and found out Adrian was marrying Morgana. I knew this was an impossibility, but imagine my disbelief when I saw you swanning around in a dress and terrible wig. I couldn't believe anyone could believe an accident would make Morgana look that hideous.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said.

“Forgive me, but you look much better without all that face paint,” Arthur said. “And thank heavens you lost the wig. And the apple.”

“Wish I had hadn't now. I'm hungry.”

“Don't worry, poppet, there will be plenty to eat back at Camelot.”

Arthur and Merlin turned to see Adrian, flanked by many guards. Adrian was looking at Arthur when he said, “Let the girl go.”

“This is a _man_,” Arthur said.

Adrian looked at his soldiers and then at Arthur. “My ideals of what constitute beauty are very different to yours, Arthur. We cannot all be as shallow as you.”

Arthur looked at the soldiers and pointed to a slightly bulgy area under Merlin's dress. Low, under his dress. “He's a bloke! Look!”

“My bride has consented to a chastity belt. If it's misshapen it's not her fault,” Adrian said.

“Adrian,” Merlin said softly. “It's over.”

That was when Merlin heard the whistle of a nearing missile before he heard a thump and Arthur was falling flat on the ground. It appeared someone had tied up their armour and used it as a weapon. When Lancelot joined the soldiers without his armour, it became apparent what had happened.

“It's over, my dear, when I say it's over,” Adrian said, before throwing an ugly wig at Merlin.

Merlin spent the next few days trapped in his chambers under threat of Arthur losing his life. Adrian had specified that the moment he thought something was up, Arthur would die wherever he was being kept.

Of course, what Merlin didn't know was that on his wedding day, while he pined, other fairly interesting things were happening in the castle, like daring rescues of incarcerated princes. As Merlin would find out later, a friend Arthur had made in battle had come for his rescue. In the rescue, her mask came askew and Arthur recognised her as a friend from years ago and asked what had made her a great swordsmen.

“Swordsmen?” Gwen had asked.

“Well, swords...person,” Arthur corrected.

Gwen probably would have put him back in the dungeon, but he looked so proud of finding an alternative to a swordsman, she just sighed and told him her whole story, which Arthur would tell later in a wrap up kind of thing. That was when Lancelot turned up and made filthy suggestions aimed at both Gwen and Arthur. Gwen and Arthur obviously refused and Arthur found himself duelling with Lancelot, while Gwen went to find Adrian.

Adrian was in his chambers, holding out a white wedding dress. It was all so wrong on so many levels and would later be written up by a scribe who had ingested too much sugar in order to write a gift for a friend.

“I'm not marrying you! It's absurd!” Merlin yelled.

“Now that's just negative talk, poppet,” Adrian said. “Put this on or my dear brother dies. Something no one will notice since he's already dead.”

And Merlin stood up and despite how much his mother had told him to never use magic, he was totally going to kill this man. He reached out his hand and just started to mumble a death spell of some sort when the door burst open (I know you're thinking there are a lot of doors bursting open, but it was mostly to do with the kind of hinges they had in those days and less with the urgency of the situation).

It was the masked woman Gwen. She looked at Adrian and drew her sword and said, “Hello. My name is Gwen Leodegrance. You killed my Lady Morgana. Prepare to die.”

Adrian looked appalled. “I did no such thing!”

“I know you're a liar, pig,” Gwen said. “Draw your sword.”

“No. You won't kill a defenceless man,” Adrian scoffed.

Gwen's sword flashed forward impossibly quick. Adrian now had a blotch of red slowly staining his shoulder. “Ow! That really hurt!”

“Now draw your sword and die like a man.”

“And if I don't draw my sword?” Adrian asked.

“Then die,” she simply answered.

“Well, in that case,” Adrian said, drawing his sword. “It'll be a pleasure sending you to meet your lady.”

Merlin watched them duel, wanting to give Gwen a helping hand, but he knew that she wanted revenge. He could see it in her determined eyes. The fought up the hall outside, bounding off furniture, spinning and dancing out of each other's way. But then something awful happened. Adrian's sword pierced Gwen's side. She stilled and fell back against a wall.

Adrian snorted. “Women.”

Merlin prepared to make something fall on Adrian's head, but Gwen was straightening up, she was reaching inside her shirt, hand fisted against her wound. She held out her sword.

“My name is Gwen Leodegrance. You killed my Lady Morgana. Prepare to die.”

Adrian made a face. “Not interesting when you say it a second time.”

A clash of swords and Adrian stumbled back.

Gwen removed her mask with her bloody hand. “My name is Gwen Leodegrance. You killed my Lady Morgana. Prepare to die.”

“Guinevere? But... you're just a maid! She was doing the maid?”

A clash of swords and Adrian fell against the wall with a thud.

“My name is Gwen Leodegrance. You killed my Lady Morgana. Prepare to die.”

“I get the point you're making!” Adrian spat, before Gwen disarmed him.

Gwen held her sword, the tip touching Adrian's chin. “My name, is Gwen Leodegrance. You killed my Lady Morgana. Prepare. To. Die.”

Adrian's eyes widened. Gwen moved for the strike.

“You are in so much trouble, young man!” Igraine yelled, appearing with Uther, Arthur looking very smug behind them.

Adrian looked appalled. “You _told_? God, I hate you, Arty.”

“To the great hall,” Uther said. “_Now_. All of you.”

Uther and Igraine had some soldiers carry Adrian away, while Gwen glared at them. Arthur went to her.

“I told you to distract him,” he said. “It looked like you were trying to kill him.”

“I didn't kill him. You hardly gave me the chance,” Gwen said.

Arthur sighed. “Look, I promised everything will come clear soon and then you won't have to kill him. You can punch him in the nuts or something.”

Then he turned to Merlin, looking utterly ruffled, his shirt torn. Merlin smiled and went to his prince, pulling him into a tight embrace before kissing him. Gwen muttered something about them getting a room and walked away, sword hanging from her hand.

Later, Uther and Igraine listened to all their stories and stared in bewilderment.

“You went away to become deserved of your manservant,” Uther said to Arthur.

“Well, it sounds stupid if you say it like that.”

“And you heard your brother was arriving home and decided to kill his plaything to ensure he would be too busy grieving to want to be crown prince again,” Uther said looking at Adrian.

Adrian looked rather happy that. “Precisely. I'd gotten quite accustomed to the idea of becoming king one day, you see.”

Uther nodded. “Indeed. And you committed acts of deceit in order to keep your claim on the throne.”

Adrian nodded. “I did, yes.”

“You have no remorse about any of this, do you?” Uther asked, looking intrigued.

“Not really, no,” Adrian said.

Uther looked at Arthur and said, “You know, he's already crown prince, it's going to be hell doing the paperwork to make you alive and crown prince again.”

“Yes. I can see it's going to be a pain removing a cheating lying prat from the line of succession, because we all know those are just not the qualities you seek in a king,” Arthur said flatly.

“That was the best sarcasm ever,” Gwen said. “Really. I'm impressed.” Merlin nodded in agreement.

Uther looked displeased. He looked at Gwen then. “What's your story? Why are you trying to kill my son?”

“Who's not trying to kill him?” Arthur asked.

“Arsur, dat is enough,” Igraine said.

“Well, Sire, your son killed Morgana. I vowed to avenge her death,” Gwen said.

Uther arched a brow at Adrian. Adrian said, “Utter lies. Morgana and I had disagreement when she said she no longer wanted me and had another lover. We argued and she accidentally fell off a cliff.”

Uther looked at Adrian. “I thought you had this desire to kill people under control.”

“I did,” Adrian said. “I fear I slipped off the cart on this occasion.”

“Well, can't you channel it or something? I mean, go hunting or something. Kill a few foreigners.”

“Uter!” Igraine objected.

“You don't count as foreign anymore, my love,” Uther said, smiling and patting her knee, which made it all okay of course.

“I sink ve vill have to have dat little talk again, Uter” Igraine said.

“Yes, of course,” Uther said with a smile. “I'm sure talking will change everything.”

Then he turned to Adrian. “Morgana was very dear to me. I cannot let her death go unpunished.”

“You won't have to,” Arthur said. Then he clapped his hands at the doors and they opened slowly (these weren't the bursting open kind of doors).

Morgana walked in, wearing long boots, tight black breeches and frilly black shirt, sword at her hip and hair gloriously dark and curled. With her was a little boy with a blonde mop of hair and blue eyes. Gwen ran to Morgana and they both embraced and then kissing for quite a long length of time. Morgana looked at Adrian then.

“Bugger,” he said.

Then she went to him and punched him very hard. Everyone approved, while Uther grimaced.

“On my travels, I was rescued by the kind of captain of a boat. Morgana was that captain,” Arthur said. “I sailed with her for many months and in that time she told me a story of great betrayal.”

Morgana nodded. “After Adrian pushed me off the cliff, I hit my head and floated out to sea. When I woke up I was on a boat. The captain wanted me to become his wife and I obviously challenged him to a drinking contest and he died of alcohol poisoning. He was quite old. Anyway, I told the crew that we'd consummated our private wedding which made me their captain. They never liked the old man, so you know, they were quite happy. Especially when I brought in things like benefits and rest days.”

“And who is that boy?” Uther asked, pointing at the small child in their midst.

“That's Mordred. He's mine and Adrian's son.”

“He looks nothing like me!” Adrian objected.

Morgana lifted her fist to strike him again, but Arthur was holding the boy and said, “Wait.”

Arthur went to the hearth and stuck his finger in some ash, using it to draw a moustache on the child's face. Everyone gasped.

“Why, he's my spitting image,” Adrian said. “Can such beauty come from such evil? Morgana being the evil, of course.”

Uther sank back in his throne. He looked like he wanted to quit being king. Then he saw Merlin. “You have anything to say?”

Merlin looked across them all and the now unmasked man. “I'm just here for Arthur.”

Igraine smiled. “Oh. What a beautiful simple child.” Merlin frowned.

“Well, Adrian, you'll have to marry Morgana,” Uther said.

“I'm not marrying that sack of manure,” Morgana said. “I'd rather marry Arthur. And he's only barely tolerable.”

“I've changed!” Arthur objected.

Merlin nodded. “He really has.”

“Well, I've got a boat. And I need a... mate I think they call it. Or something. Gwen?”

Gwen beamed and hugged Morgana. “Oh, yes please.”

“And what about the boy?” Arthur asked. “He can't go with you. It's too dangerous.”

Igraine got up and took the child from Arthur, smiling happily. “Oh, he vill stay with me and his grandfaader. Von't he, Uter?” Uther waved a hand and sighed. “And Addy? Your dark tendencies, they vorry me greatly. Ve vill have to do somesink. Yes?”

Adrian sighed. “Yes mother.”

“Arthur,” she said with a doting smile. “Go be my spoilt boy vis your friend.”

Arthur smiled, bouncing a little before grabbing Merlin and dragging him out of the hall. Uther shouted behind them, “Try not to do anything un-Christian!”

And there it was. Morgana and Gwen sailed the high seas, inventing the much more desirable brand of pirates. They spent most of their time out there, pillaging and being feared in a rather sexy way and the other half of the year they returned to be with Mordred, making sure he we wouldn't grow up to be psychotic like his father.

Adrian curbed his psychotic tendencies, but let loose during war and invasion. He became a great king and had a sham wedding with Guinevere because someone caught Mordred calling her mother. A great king he might have been, but somewhere down the line, a monk mis-copied the very first history of Britain and spelled his name Arthur. In several places. Well, all most all of them. So Adrian became Arthur.

What happened to the real Arthur, you say? The story is that he might have been one of the knights of the round table, possibly even all of them. Another story is that he eventually took his servant boy Merlin and moved away to the country (in those days it was mostly country, so by _country_ they actually meant a nice suburban area). Merlin was promoted to the role of house manager, which meant for once he got to order people about. Sometimes he ordered Arthur about too, but Arthur didn't mind and always replied to all requests with,

“As you wish.”

This is all true.

**\- the end -**

**Author's Note:**

> It's not exactly the most cerebral story ever written :D | For Suz's birthday. With love and apologies :D | A fusion with William Goldman's _The Princess Bride_ | Jokes and comedic sensibilities borrowed from all over the place including _The Princess Bride_, _Blackadder_ and Eddie Izzard.


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